subject cannot behold without horror and compassion," he observes
a Piedmontese count in Turkish attire, reminding the reader of
one of Dumas' stories of a count among the forcats. To learn that
there were always volunteer oarsmen among these poor outcasts is
to reflect bitterly upon the average happiness of mankind. As to
whether they wore much worse off than common seamen in the
British navy of the period (who were only in name volunteers and
had often no hope of discharge until they were worn out) under
such commanders as Oakum or Whiffle [In Roderick Random.] is
another question. For confirmation of Smollett's account in
matters of detail the reader may turn to Aleman's Guzman
d'Afarache, which contains a first-hand description of the life
on board a Mediterranean slave galley, to Archenholtz's Tableau
d'Italie of 1788, to Stirling Maxwell's Don John of Austria
(1883, i. 95), and more pertinently to passages in the Life of a
Galley Slave by Jean Marteilhe (edited by Miss Betham-Edwards in
1895). After serving in the docks at Dunkirk, Marteilhe, as a
confirmed protestant, makes the journey in the chain-gang to
Marseilles, and is only released after many delays in consequence
of the personal interest and intervention of Queen Anne. If at
the peace of Utrecht in 1713 we had only been as tender about the
case of our poor Catalan allies! Nice at that juncture had just
been returned by France to the safe-keeping of Savoy, so that in
order to escape from French territory, Marteilhe sailed for Nice
in a tartane, and not feeling too safe even there, hurried thence
by Smollett's subsequent route across the Col di Tende. Many
Europeans were serving at this time in the Turkish or Algerine
galleys. But the most pitiable of all the galley slaves were
those of the knights of St. John of Malta. "Figure to yourself,"
wrote Jacob Houblon [The Houblon Family, 1907 ii. 78. The